Sometimes, you just gotta go early to catch the news.
“Dude, seriously, let me pack that cone. You got no thumbs.”
Borobi squinted at me through the thick haze of weed smoke.
“Don’t patronise me, JB,” he muttered. “I’m special now, bro. You gotta show some respect.”
But he was already three buckets into the wind and it took him a long time time to say this, what with all the coughing and wheezing getting distracted by his breakfast beer.
He necked the last half of the beer in one long pull, belched enormously, and fell back against the front of the brown couch. Traffic roared past outside our flat at Nobby’s but Rob’ didn’t hear it. He just lay there on the floor contentedly drumming his fat, greasy paws on the matted and filthy blue fur of his grossly distended belly.